


Time makes you bolder

by thewolvescalledmehome



Series: Home [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Jealous Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 19:33:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19774945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Jon agrees to go to Sansa's ten year reunion so willingly only because she bought a new dress for the occasion, but he doesn't realize quite what that means. He also sees someone he used to know at her reunion.





	Time makes you bolder

**Author's Note:**

> I had a several requests for a bolder, more possessive/jealous Jon, as well as for Sansa and Ygritte meeting.

**Jon**

When had Jon graduated from high school, he promised himself there was only one reason he would step back in one ever again: his children. When Sansa showed him the Facebook invite though, he realized that there was a second reason he would: if she asked.

It was her ten-year reunion, and she wanted to go.

Jon couldn’t imagine why. He was pretty sure he hadn’t even been invited to his ten-year reunion, which would’ve been two years ago—around the same time they got married—and he was perfectly fine with that. He supposed that she probably had a better time in high school than he had.

Plus, she had mentioned buying a new dress for it, and Jon never turned down an opportunity to see her in a new dress.

* * *

Sansa did buy a new dress for her reunion, but she refused to let him see it until they actually arrived at the reunion, which Jon found out was not actually taking place at the high school, but in a reception hall of a hotel. Jon suspected it was because she knew if he saw the dress before they left, he’d never want to leave the house.

As Sansa shed her coat at the coat check, Jon knew immediately he was right.

Her new dress was navy blue, mostly backless—which Jon knew meant she wasn’t wearing a bra—and when she moved, he saw that there was a slit up the side. If he had seen her in it before they left, he definitely would’ve insisted in staying in, or at least arriving late.

She was breathtaking in it.

“You did that on purpose.” He’d meant it to come out as a whisper, but seeing her in it had nearly rendered him voiceless, so it came out more of husky growl.

“Well, I doubted you’d have much fun tonight—I know this isn’t really your scene. So, I figured I’d make it worth your while,” she murmured back. Jon saw how her eyes twinkled and he was half tempted to see how spacious the coatroom was.

“So, your plan is to tease me all night?”

Sansa took a few steps ahead of him, letting him drink in the full effect of the dress from the back. Jon suppressed a groan.

“Maybe,” she giggled.

Instead of wrapping his arms around her waist to claim her like he wanted to, he settled for sliding their hands together and squeezing. He could feel how her wedding ring pinched his finger and it was the best feeling in the world.

* * *

Initially, Jon couldn’t keep his eyes off Sansa and the way her body moved in the dress—the way the backlessness showed off her muscles, her shoulder blades, the way it clung to her waist and hips before flaring out slightly, the way he’d get a peek of her thigh and calf when she took large steps forward. It was all nearly too much for him to handle, which was why he forced himself to stop staring at her.

Once he’d torn his eyes away, though, he realized that he hadn’t been the only one who found her dress distracting.

All around him were men—and a handful of women—who kept glancing at Sansa.

At first, Jon was a little proud of it. He was proud of how beautiful his wife was. He stood up a little straighter at her side, puffed his chest out a bit.

But as the night wore on, Jon found he grew jealous of all the other people who were admiring Sansa in the same way he was. Earlier, he had settled on holding her hand to establish his claim, but even that and the wedding rings they both wore wasn’t enough. Instead, he found himself wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her so close that their hips bumped. He used his left hand more often, the silver of his wedding band catching on the lights of the hall.

He had expected Sansa to get annoyed with him and how possessive he was, but every time he squeezed her hip, she smiled at him. That alone took his breath away.

* * *

**Sansa**

Sansa knew her new dress was going to drive Jon wild. She relished in how he stared at her, how he’d grab her and yank her close, how his fingers dug into her hip.

Before tonight, Sansa was pretty sure she’d never seen Jon jealous or possessive. She’d rarely seen him initiate so much PDA in a place with so many people. Usually he left it to holding hands, but now he trailed his fingers down her bare spine in a way that sent shivers through her. He’d never purposefully done anything to try to turn her on in public before, but it almost seemed as if he was determined to tonight.

When they sat down for the dinner, Sansa half expected to feel his hand on her thigh.

He didn’t. Instead, he sat ramrod straight, almost seeming frozen.

Sansa looked around quickly, trying to find what Jon must’ve seen. She couldn’t imagine what it had been—she was pretty sure he didn’t know anyone she went to school with, and she didn’t recognize anyone from their time at KLU.

“What is it?” she whispered, the heat and sizzle that had been building in her stomach all evening growing quickly cold.

“I-I just thought I saw… Never mind. It’s nothing.”

Sansa glanced around again, but she still couldn’t see anything that might’ve made Jon freeze like that. When she turned back to him, he had loosened again and was chatting politely with Jeyne Poole.

Sansa had thought that whatever Jon saw, whatever rattled him at the start of the dinner, would’ve affected him for the rest of the evening, but soon after the food was cleared away, he pulled her up and towards the dance floor. He swept her around to the beat of the music, appearing to be at ease.

Sansa knew that years ago, this would not have been the case. He would’ve clammed up, shut down. He would not have recovered with something resembling ease and continue to send shivers through her body, making her eager for the night to be over and them to return home.

* * *

They had stopped dancing to make their way over to the bar. Whoever had been student body president when she was in high school had kept enough money in the budget to allow for an open bar, and Sansa and Jon had decided to take advantage of this.

She slid onto a stool to spare her feet for a few minutes while Jon ordered their cocktails. Jon’s hand was warm on her back as he leaned over the bar to be heard over the din. His palm ran up and down innocently, but deliciously. The calluses and roughness of his hands raised goosebumps that gave her away.

“What do you think, a couple more dances, maybe another drink, and then we head home?” Jon asked, his hand dipping down to the small of her back.

“Sounds good,” she whispered, grinning at him.

Jon leaned in like he was going to kiss her, but something behind her must’ve caught his attention. He’d frozen like he had when they had sat down for dinner.

This time Sansa was quick enough to see what he was looking at. Or rather, who.

At the other end of the bar was one of the Ryswell brothers (she had absolutely no idea which one—they all looked the same and they were only a year apart from each other) and a woman with wildly curly red hair.

Sansa had never seen a picture of her, but she knew instantly who the woman at the end of the bar must be.

Ygritte.

Before Sansa knew what she was doing, she was off the stool and striding to the other end of the bar.

“Sansa, wait. You don’t have to…” she heard Jon saying behind her, but she wasn’t listening.

For the eight years she’d been with Jon, she had imagined, more than once, what she would say if she ever ran into Ygritte. What do you say to your husband’s first love? The one who broke his heart? The first time she’d imagined the confrontation, she thought she might scream and yell and try to hurt her as she hurt Jon. As she grew older, and as Jon grew bolder, Sansa realized that maybe she wouldn’t make such a scene, but she knew she’d still want to say something piercing and poignant.

Now that she had her chance, she was struggling to find the words.

Jon caught up to her right before she reached the other woman, grabbing her hand.

“It’s not worth it,” he said softly, trying to steer her away.

“You absolutely are worth it,” Sansa responded, much more loudly than he had spoken, drawing the attention of others at the bar. It drew Ygritte’s attention.

Sansa saw the exact moment that Ygritte recognized Jon. She saw how her eyebrows rose, how her mouth opened slightly, how she half turned on the stool, as if she considered hiding.

“Jon,” she half croaked, as if she’d lost her voice.

Sansa took a half step in front of Jon, almost to block him from her view, to protect him. She’d thought that Jon might crumble, might become that person he was when they met, but he didn’t. He stepped up next to her, fully in Ygritte’s view, and squeezed her hand that he was still holding.

“Ygritte.” He nodded, perfectly civil. “This is my wife, Sansa.”

“Nice to meet you,” Sansa said, sticking her hand out. Ygritte visibly hesitated before taking it.

“You too. You’re looking good, Jon.”

“Thanks.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Sansa spared him an appreciative glance—checking him over head to toe—before turning back to Ygritte. She knew what she wanted to say. ”I just wanted to come over to say thank you. Thank you for letting him go. If you hadn’t, I would never have found him. And I’m so happy that I did.”

“Y-you’re welcome…?” Ygritte looked down at her drink. “I-I’m sorry, Jon. For how things ended all those years ago. I didn’t handle it well…”

“It’s fine. We were kids. And, really, I’m happy you did. I couldn’t imagine my life differently.” The last part he said to Sansa and she felt some of those sparks and sizzle from earlier flare up inside her again.

* * *

**Jon**

Jon had already been turned on for most of the evening, but something about her striding across the bar, her willingness to go to battle for him obvious in the set of her shoulders, had him far more wrecked than her dress or the other people staring at her did.

They had made to return to their half-finished drinks, but Jon linked her hand with his and pulled her away.

“But our drinks are that way!”

“Just… c’mon.” Again, his voice came out far more like a growl than it ever had before.

Jon led her out of the hall and into the lobby of the hotel.

“We’d like a room, please,” he told the man at the front desk, lying his card on the counter.

“Looks like we’ve got only a few left. We have one king room, a junior suite, and a few double rooms.”

“We’ll take the king. Just for the night.”

“Jon, what’re you doing?” Sansa whispered, but he could clearly hear the laughter in her voice.

“I don’t want to wait until we get home,” he rasped in her ear, completely uncaring of the person behind them in line. How could he, with the way Sansa’s breath hitched and the way she leaned a little closer to him?

“Room 998. Elevator’s to your left. Ninth floor. Check out’s at eleven tomorrow. Anything else?”

“Nope. Thanks.” Jon swiped the key card from the counter. It took all his willpower not to sprint for the elevator. He settled for something resembling a speed walk, with Sansa laughing and dashing to keep up with him.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind him, nearly all the willpower drained him.

He pulled her into the corner, blocking her from the view of the security camera, and then his lips were on hers. It had been all he wanted all evening, but suddenly it wasn’t enough.

Her hands were pulling his shirt from beneath his waistband as his traced up her thigh—the slit in her dress allowing for his fingers to feel the lace of her underwear at her hip.

His hand was just sliding around to the back of her thigh, his fingers grazing that crease where her thigh and ass met, when the elevator door dinged.

Ruefully, Jon removed his hands as Sansa stopped trying to unbutton his shirt. They stumbled out of the elevator and down the hall, still unable to keep their hands to themselves.

It took Jon three tries to get the key to work. In his haste to get into the room, he inserted it the wrong way first, then removed it too quickly, which forced an irritated groan from his throat. Finally, with more patience than he thought he possessed in that moment, he swiped the keycard the way it required and the light turned green.

Jon didn’t bother to do anything more than to set the card on the first surface he encountered in the room before turning back to Sansa and lifting her against the door.

“I’ve been dying to do this all night,” he breathed into her collarbones as he kissed the skin there.

“This dress made the evening worthwhile, huh?” Her voice was breathless and it made him press more closely against her.

“Not just for me, it seemed.”

“Jealous?”

“Of other people staring at my wife? Yeah. A bit.”

Her fingers knotted in his hair and he felt her ankles lock around his back.

“You’re hot when you’re jealous.”

Jon couldn’t stand it anymore—he spun her away from the door and set her on the closest surface. There he could unfasten the single button holding her dress up at the base of her neck, causing the top half of her dress to pool at her stomach.

He’d been right in his earlier assessment. She hadn’t been wearing a bra.

 _This is mine,_ he thought. Everyone else might’ve gotten to see his wife in her dress, but no one else got to see this. This was his alone.

Sansa had thrown her head back against the wall and was pulling him closer with her legs.

Half of him thought he should move them to the bed, but he was too impatient. He needed this here, now.

He kissed her across her collarbones, down her sternum, and her navel. He lifted the skirt of her dress and slid her underwear down over her shoes.

She moaned even as he licked and kneaded her inner thighs.

He was torn between making this last as long as possible and giving in to his more primal of needs and desires.

Her whine encouraged him forward, his tongue quickly finding her bundle of nerves. He hitched her closer to the edge of the table or counter or whatever it was that she was on, and looped her knees over his shoulders to grant him a better angle.

One of Sansa’s hands had rooted in his curls and every time she pulled, Jon slowed down his ministrations. He licked slowly, with the flat of his tongue, the way he knew made Sansa keen. His fingers gripped her thighs, holding her as tight as he possibly could.

He lost himself in her pleasure, because it was his. He was the only one who could make her feel this way. He was the only one who would make her feel this way. Everyone else might have been staring at her all night, but it would be his name on her lips when she came.

When he couldn’t stand it anymore, Jon brought his face back to hers. As soon as he was upright, her hands were on his belt buckle.

“You should get jealous more often,” she panted. He let out a breathy laugh as she pushed his pants and underwear down to his knees. Sansa wrapped her legs around him again, but Jon pulled back, a brief, coherent thought entering.

“I haven’t got a condom on me.”

“It’s fine—we were talking about trying anyway,” she said, offhandedly.

The part of his brain that was paying attention wanted to ask if she was sure, but he’d been half hard all evening and he’d been looking forward to it far too much to stop and have a rational, mature conversation now.

She pulled him close again, and this time Jon didn’t resist. He pushed in slowly, savoring in the feeling of being inside her.

He rocked into her slowly, thinking to make it last, but she stretched up and gripped the wrought iron light fixture above her head, stretching her naked torso. The sight, in combination with her furrowed brow and open, pretty pink mouth, was far too much for him. Bracing his hands on the wall on either side of her, he moaned as he sank even deeper, moving faster.

“ _Oh Jon, oh Jon,_ ” she gasped, her heels guiding his pace. “ _Oh_!” she cried, locking her legs tightly as her walls tightened.

That was all it took to push him over the edge, whimpering her name as she had his.

Even as he pulled out, Sansa was still whispering his name.

**Author's Note:**

> Up next is kids.


End file.
